Page 47 of A Cornish Love Story
‘And isn’t that why we broke up?’ he said, quieter now. ‘Because you accused me of prioritizing Sarah over myself? Sacrificing my future for her? You said I needed to be loyal tomyselffirst, then other people– and you were right. So what about you? What about whatyouwant?’
‘But this is a book!’ I sounded frantic, because I didn’t want him to be making sense. ‘This will be a book withmyname on the cover. It’s guaranteed to get published.’
‘Is it?’ he asked. ‘And you deserve one withonlyyour name on the cover. You always have. Don’t ever think you’re not good enough, that you have to settle for second best.’
I swallowed, willing the lump in my throat to dissolve rather than turn into tears.
‘And you’re …’ He shook his head.
‘I’m what?’
‘I know we’ve only spent a few hours together, but … the low phone battery, the camera – they’re just small things, but you used to be so organized. The Georgie I knew would have had two spare camera batteries with her, her phone charged to one hundred per cent before she left the house. You would have had a list of questions or bullet points written down in your notebook, even if the article was a cover for something else. You didn’t have as much confidence as you should have, and there was a lot standing in your way, but you were determined. This thing with Spence, it feels like you’re giving up. You don’t seem sorted, Georgie.’
‘You don’t knowanythingabout me now,’ I reminded him. ‘And anyway, what about you?’ I wanted to meet his attack with one of my own. ‘You were so loyal – to me, to Sarah, everyone. Now all I see are these … thesedifferent women on your social media. A new model for each new mini-break; bland smiles and shitty little captions. What’s happened toyou? Areyousorted?’
I held my breath, waiting for his anger, his denial. Instead, he stared at me for a beat, then replied in a low, calm voice. ‘You can hate me for what I’ve said about Spence’s book, and what I’ve noticed about you. And you’re right about me. I’m not proud of some of the things I’ve done, and my love life isn’t worthy of a single heartfelt letter.’ He gave me a quick smile, a flash of bitterness that was gone in a second. ‘You can shout at me if you want to – I probably deserve it. And you can tell me I’m wrong, that I should keep my dickhead opinions to myself, but after that …?’
He looked worn out, like he was desperate for me to agree to just one thing.
I nodded.
‘I really don’t want to fight any more,’ he said.
‘Me either.’ I didn’t want to shout at him. I wanted to sort out the jumble of questions his words had turned Spence’s offer into. Was he right? Was she using me?
Ethan stood up, and for a moment I thought he was going to go upstairs again, put as much space between us as possible. Instead, he stood in the middle of the room, between the sofas arranged in their companionable layout and the French windows, where the rain was still pelting against the glass, the rumbles of thunder continuous, like giant marbles let loose on a wooden floor. He held out his hand.
‘Dance with me,’ he said, and I was about to shakemy head when he spoke to the house. ‘Sparks, play “Hey, Soul Sister”by Train.’
I laughed and said, ‘Really?’ but I was already getting to my feet, joining him in the middle of the room, because never mind the house with its impenetrable exits, Ethan had me completely trapped: there was no way I could resist him now.
Chapter Nineteen
May 2012
‘Have you written your speech? Please can we come up with a word you have to include in it?’ Kira pinched a chip off Freddy’s plate then held one out to me as I stared at my untouched salad, nerves turning my insides to concrete.
‘I wish I’d never entered the writing competition.’ I had wanted to see if I was any good, to see if it was more than just my friends, my mum and my boyfriend telling me I could write.
‘Nah, you don’t wish that,’ Freddy said. ‘You won, didn’t you? One of four winners, and it’s a kick-ass story.’
‘A love story about a mermaid,’ Orwell chimed in. ‘All a bit Disney, if you ask me.’
‘That was a Hans Christian Andersen fairy tale first,’ Kira said. ‘Disney changed the whole thing.’
‘Mine is about the Alperwick Mermaid,’ I said. ‘It’s not as if the guy ends up with her like Prince Eric – their shared experience of seeing the mermaid brings the couple together.’ Iwasproud of my story, and had been elated when I found out I’d won, coming home to an A5 envelope on the kitchen table that didn’t have a plastic window or typed address, suggesting it was something worth opening.
‘What’s that?’ Ethan had put his arms around me, his chin resting on my head.
‘I don’t have X-ray eyes.’ I’d laughed and ripped open the seal, read through the letter then screamed. I’d turned in his arms, and he’d kissed me and spun me round, as thrilled as I was.
‘You have to get a word in your speech,’ Kira said again. ‘Like bandana, or flibbertigibbet, or cornucopia.’
‘I’ll be lucky if I say anything that isn’t a squeak,’ I told her, but then my nerves settled because Ethan was walking towards our table with a sandwich and a coffee, and Sarah was with him.
‘Hey, guys.’ He sat next to me, and Sarah slumped into a chair opposite, her long, dark hair obscuring half her face.
‘Hey,’ I said, as Ethan kissed me.
